Pinned
by Carol
Summary: Takes place before Exile on Main St…spoilers…just because Dean's done with the life doesn't mean the life's done with Dean…a powerful demon makes sure of it…hurt!Dean


**Pinned**

**By Carol M.**

**Summary: Takes place before Exile on Main St…spoilers…just because Dean's done with the life doesn't mean the life's down with Dean…a powerful demon makes sure of it…hurt!Dean**

**Spoilers: Up to Exile on Main St**

**Disclaimer: Don't own em, only love em**

**Note: I started this before Exile and have adjusted it to reflect some of the info learned from the episode. This takes place at a time when Dean has mostly overcome the drinking/nightmares/etc and is more settled into his life with Lisa and Ben. I'd say it takes place one or two months before the events of Exile on Main St. **

**Enjoy!**

After almost a year out of the life, Dean is only two seconds off his game as he steps through Lisa's front door carrying a brown grocery bag filled with goodies for a long overdue date night. But two seconds is all the demon needs. Just as Dean realizes the devil's trap under the rug is not only exposed, but cracked, the demon slams into him from the side, propelling Dean violently into a bookcase. In the chaos, the grocery bag falls to the ground, flowers, strawberries and chocolate sauce spilling out all over the floor and two bottles of champagne exploding in a bomb of sticky bubbles and glass. The mess peppers the bottoms of Dean's legs as he crashes headfirst into the corner of the bookcase, the blow leaving him dazed, but not unconscious.

"Thought you could leave it all behind Winchester?"

The stars in Dean's eyes clear enough so that he can make out the person the demon is possessing. It's the friendly neighborhood UPS man known as Fred, who's about six foot three, two fifty and looks like Dolph Lundgren.

"Guess you didn't get the invite to my retirement party?" Dean's eyes skirt towards the bottom shelf of the bookcase, focusing on a coffee table book on muscle cars that Lisa had gotten him for his birthday. Hidden inside is Ruby's demon killing knife. Just because he was out of the life didn't mean he'd gone entirely native. Dean lunges for the book and effectively knocks it down, the blade spilling out on the floor. Dean anxiously makes a grab for the blade. But the demon had seen the move coming. It latches on to Dean's wrist and wrestles the knife out of Dean's hand, the demon's iron grip leaving Dean's fingers feeling like they'd been smashed by a brick.

"You just don't get it, do you, kid?"

The demon waves his hand and Dean's suddenly Superman, flying towards a wall across the room. He smacks into it hard and begins to fall in a heap to the ground, but the demon scoops him up mid-air by the throat, an unbelievably painful pressure against his neck. The demon lifts him up and shoves him against the wall, his feet dangling a foot off the ground.

"You think you're so powerful, Dean? So special?" The demon releases the hold on his throat, but Dean's still pressed in mid air against the wall, his body and his muscles straining against the unnatural position. "You're not." The demon brings the knife up, pressing it taut against Dean's throat, nicking out a sharp gouge.

"Ahh," Dean gasps.

"You just got lucky." The demon presses the knife in harder, cutting off Dean's air.

"Please," Dean whispers, his voice hoarse. " Do…ahhh…whatever you want…ahh…to me…just…"

The knife goes deeper into his throat, warm blood oozing down in a thin but steady stream. It hurts. It throbs like a son of a bitch as a matter of fact. He hasn't felt pain like this in awhile. A year. He figures he must've lost his pain tolerance. Or hell, maybe this is what it's supposed to feel like. It's not like having a knife shoved against your throat is a normal occurrence. At least, not in this life.

The demon abruptly pulls the knife away and then smiles sickly. "Don't worry, Winchester. I don't plan on killing you or anybody else."

Somehow the words don't reassure Dean. At all. In fact, they leave a cold pit of dread in his stomach.

"What then?" Dean struggles against the invisible forces holding him to the wall.

"I just wanted to stop in and leave my card. Let you know that…I'm around."

The demon's eyes go violet and it caresses the knife from hilt to tip, causing the knife to shimmer.

"It's in your in hands, Dean." The demon says something in Latin that Dean can't place.

Then Dean screams.

Lisa switches off the ignition in her car and reaches for the pink bag on the passenger's seat, her lips quirking into a smile of delight as she thinks of the night's possibilities.

The last few weeks had been good. Great even. Dean seemed to be settling into his life in suburbia. He didn't look sad or lost all the time. He wasn't as jumpy. Sometimes he even slept the whole night through. And every once in awhile, she even thought she saw moments of happiness shine through his eyes.

Things had been going so well in fact that Dean had suggested a date night. Get Ben out of the house and have a little decadent naughty fun. The idea had Lisa beaming at how far Dean had come. She was really proud of him and very happy to spend a few hours without the worries of kids, dead brothers or recovering from saving the world. She was determined to make the night special for the both of them.

She has a feeling that the little number wrapped in heart tissue paper in the pink bag will definitely aid her in that quest.

Lisa hurries to the front door, swinging the bag gleefully as if it were a prop in a musical. She opens the front door, more than ready for the magic to begin.

"Dean…you better be…"

Lisa stops talking as she steps in the wet, mushy, crunchy mess of champagne, chocolate, strawberries and flowers.

"Wha…"

"Lisa, don't be scared. Everything will be alright, I promise."

It's Dean's voice, but it can't be Dean. The tone is too weak and filled with pain. Her eyes track towards the voice.

"Oh god!" The pink bag falls to the ground as her hands come up to cover her mouth. The sights and sounds before her makes her stomach drop and her heart explode, leaving her a tingling nervous bag of bones.

Dean's hovering mid air, flush against the back wall, a knife shoved in to the hilt sticking out from his belly. The muscles and tendons in his neck, chest, arms and legs ripple and contract against the awkward unnatural force being placed on his body. His face is white, glistening with sweat, his eyes glassy and bright green, wheezy, moaning pants huffing out of quivering lips. His grey shirt has an ugly and rapidly growing red blood stain that starts as a circular shape around the knife and then tapers off into a line that goes down the front of his shirt, streaks down his jeans and past his boots before it falls with a sickening splat into a growing puddle on the hard wood floor.

Tears prick at Lisa's eyes. "Dean…Dean…what are you…what…"

"Lisa, I'm so sorry…but we're…ah…we're going to figure this out. Everything's…ow…going to…ah…son of a bitch…be okay."

Lisa swallows her tears and nods, wiping the lingering droplets from her eyes. She realizes she needs to get a hold herself so she can help Dean.

"What is this? What's happening?" Lisa asks as calmly as she can muster.

Instead of answering her, Dean's attention is on the pink bag she had dropped on the floor.

"Dean?"

"So, Victoria's Secret, huh?"

Lisa sighs. "Seriously? Now is so not the time, Dean."

Dean's eyes flutter. He looks dazed. "Right…sorry. Must be the pain talking." He chuckles and then grunts, wincing. "Yeah, definitely the pain."

Lisa's tentatively steps closer to him. "What's doing this?"

"A demon," Dean answers.

Lisa starts in horror, her skin prickling, her eyes wandering around the house.

"It's long gone, Lis. Promise."

"Then how's it still holding you up like that?"

"It was really…ah…really powerful. Think there's some kind of spell too."

"What about the knife? Is it holding you to the wall?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I've tried a few spells, but…owww…my Latin's a little…rusty. I think I tried to block it out."

Lisa searches out Dean's eyes, seeing pain, fear and guilt reflecting back at her. His panting has grown louder and she can tell the pain is wearing on him. "Hey," she says gently. "We're going to figure this out." She grabs his hand to give it a squeeze and it feels like she's holding a bolt of lightning. "Ahh…crap!" She drops his hand and hops back, breaking the connection, her hand burning.

Dean's eyes light up in horror. "You okay? Are you hurt? Dean's face flushes in fury. "Must be part of that son of a bitch's power."

"So you're stuck up there for all eternity or something?" Lisa asks, suddenly dizzy with anxiousness.

"No." Dean exhales and swallows painfully. "He's just toying with me. This was all a game to him."

"A game? Dean, you're electrical and you have knife sticking out of your stomach."

"I didn't say he…wasn't…ahh…wasn't a sick sadistic bastard. But if he wanted me dead, I'd be dead. Trust me…oohh…I know the type."

"So what now?"

Dean struggles against his position on the wall, muscles convulsing. It was like he was wrestling against invisible restraints. "Oh…this sucks." He gasps and swallows, his face going paler, more blood dripping from his gut from the effort of trying to break free. He finally catches his breath and looks at her, his expression pained. "You're gonna have to go out to the Impala. The trunk…there's a bunch of…ah…books. Maybe there's something in there that can help. Spell book or incantations or something."

"Okay." Lisa's eyes sweep over Dean's body. She sees the way his body trembles, the way the lines around his eyes bunch up in jagged juts of pain. She hears the continuous torrents of whimpers escaping Dean's lips that get louder and more ragged with every passing moment. She can tell he's holding back and trying to be brave and act nonchalant for her benefit. It makes her appreciate him even more.

"We're going to get through this Dean."

Dean smiles crookedly. "Damn straight we are. I gotta find out what's in the bag. Better yet, I gotta see you in whatever's in that bag."

"That's as good a reason to hold on as any," Lisa says with a smile.

Dean winks. "The only."

Lisa blows him a kiss. "I'll be right back."

"I'll just be…hanging out."

Lisa groans at the bad joke. "You're unbelievable."

"I've been told."

Lisa rolls her eyes before grabbing the keys for the Impala and heading out to the garage. The Impala sits under a tarp like an ancient relic still buzzing with power. Lisa slides the tarp off and opens the trunk with the key. As she secures it open with the squeaky holder, she peers down and feels like she looking at the belongings of a stranger. Guns, knives, ropes, chains, salt, hex bags. Strange symbols she doesn't understand painted on everything. Jars and bottles filled with colorful liquids. Books. A ton of them. Spell books, bibles, history books, voodoo, hoodoo and everything in between. And in the middle of it all an old worn leather journal.

She scoops up the books she thinks are of most relevance, ignoring the scared chill that runs through her and when she's satisfied that she has enough, she slams the trunk closed and heads back eagerly towards the house.

Dean's fading and fast. His muscles quiver with the position he's been forced to hold for the last god knows how many hours. The knife wound's a constant throb in his side, made worse by the shaking trembling muscles, which causes the knife to constantly bob up and down like it's a buoy in the ocean. The blood loss has left him feeling nauseous, dizzy, and sluggish. He wants down. God, he wants down so bad. He's shaking with it now, claustrophobia setting in at not being able to move, his heart pounding, his limbs quaking.

Lisa walks through the door just then with a ton of books in hand and Dean sighs in relief. "That's my girl," he says under his breath.

Lisa lets most of the books drop to the floor. "I didn't know which one to pick, so I brought them all."

"You did good," Dean says as he eyes the books. The titles make him wince. When he sees his dad's leather journal, he shuts his eyes, not able to take looking at it. "Look for a grey one," he says, tilting his head away. "Spells and Incantations."

Lisa clamors through the pile for a moment before triumphantly pulling up a small grey dusty book. "Spells and Incantations, check."

"Perfect," Dean says, opening his eyes again. "Okay…just…let me think a second. The demon touched the knife and you…oohhh…got zapped…so maybe, I don't know, the knife's being possessed? Or this whole force field is being possessed and I'm…oh…I don't know, stuck in it? Worth a shot, right?"

"That's crazy." She looks at him in utter fear, not only for the freaky situation, but for his safety, he realizes. While he feels horrible for putting her through this, there's a part of him that's warmed at her concern. It makes him all the more determined to make sure that something like this doesn't happen again.

"We're going to do this Lisa. Look for the Rituale Romanum…I tried it earlier and I think it could work…awww…it starts with a…um…Regna Terra, el cantino…I don't know, something like that," Dean says hurriedly. "It's been awhile. Truth be told, Latin wasn't my best subject in hunting school. "

Lisa anxiously flies through the pages before stopping. "I got it, I got it. What now?"

"Read it," Dean says.

"Dean my pronunciation…"

"Believe me, sweetheart, mine sucks too. Just read it…you'll do fine."

Lisa glances up at him with tears in her eyes and then nods. She looks down at the book and starts.

"Regna Terrae, cantate deo…psallite domino…qui vehitur per calus…caelos antiquos!"

The knife in Dean's gut begins to turn on its own, burrowing in deeper.

"Oooohhh," Dean groans, the pain hitting him hard. Blood drips down his shirt and jeans in a steady warm sticky stream.

"Is that supposed to happen?" Lisa shouts in a panic.

"I don't know," Dean mutters. "Just keep…going."

"Ecce, edit vocem suam, vocem potentem! Akinoscite potentian dei! Majestas ejus…et potenta ejus in nubibus."

"Ahhhh!" The knife shakes inside Dean and it's absolutely killing him. He shuts his eyes against the onslaughting agony. He wants Sam. He misses his brother. God he misses him. This hurts so damn bad and he wants his brother.

But there isn't any time for that he realizes. He has to figure this out. He could call Bobby, but in doing that it's just a hop, skip and a jump back into the life. No, he needs to figure this out on his own. He's the man of this house. He needs to be the one to keep it together. On his own, without anyone's outside help. On his own. With his own brain. With his own two hands. It's in your hands Dean. The light bulb explodes in his head and he suddenly knows what he has to do.

"Dean!" Lisa's crying now, staring in horror at the blood.

"I got it, Lis," Dean manages through gritted teeth. "Keep…ah…reading. Oww…finish…it!"

Lisa pauses and begrudgingly continues. "Timendus est dues e sancto suo."

Dean lifts his arms away from the wall with an effort that makes them feel like they weigh 500 pounds. Maybe even a thousand. "Sword…in the stone…you little…oh hell…demon son of a bitch." He grips the knife tightly and pulls.

"Dues Israel…ipse potentiam."

Dean feels a sizzling pain tear through his gut along with a splash of hot warmth over his belly. "Oh god."

"Datet robur populo suo…benedictus dues."

Dean almost has the knife out of him. "Just…like…ahhh…pulling….oww…off…a…bandaid!"

"Gloria Patri!"

Dean pulls the knife all the way out just as Lisa finishes.

"Dean!" Lisa screams.

Dean lingers in the air for a moment before all of his muscles go lax and suddenly, gravity exists again. He collapses into a bloody heap on the floor, gut burning, mind fading, Lisa freaking out in the background. He hears her go on about calling an ambulance and the hospital and his natural gut reaction is against it. But then he remembers, he's a real citizen now, with real insurance and a real name. And suddenly, a hospital and a doctor with real stitches and real drugs sound pretty damn good at the moment. It's the last thought he has before everything goes black.

Lisa sits in a very uncomfortable chair next to Dean's hospital bed. She's been watching him sleep for hours now.

Dean's going to be okay. Twenty five stitches to the stomach, mild blood loss and a slight infection from the wound. No major internal organs damaged. He's also got several nicks around his throat and a few strained muscles from being held up against the wall, but nothing that won't mend itself in time. Mostly, Dean's tired, weak and in pain. They'd stitched him up, given him some blood and put him in a bed for the night with a dose of powerful antibiotics and some painkillers.

He had woken up when they'd first gotten into the ER and freaked out, thinking he was still a hunter, that cops would be after him. But then he remembered himself and Lisa quickly picked up on the drill. They told the docs that it had been a home invasion. They'd given a fake description of the intruder and everything.

Dean had conked out shortly after, riding a wave of painkillers and utter exhaustion and Lisa's been watching him ever since. It was nice to see him sleep so deep without any nightmares. She hopes that this incident doesn't set Dean back in his forward progress towards being at least semi well adjusted to normalcy.

Dean shifts then, his eyes fluttering, a low moan escaping out of his mouth.

"Dean?" Lisa says, reaching for his hand and giving it a tender squeeze.

His eyes blink open and he's momentarily disoriented, his hand jumping in hers. This had happened when he had first showed up , when he'd wake up from a nightmare screaming, calling out for Sam, not knowing where he was, who he was or who he was sleeping next to.

The current confusion only lasts a few seconds before his eyes clear and his hand tentatively squeezes hers in recognition. "Hey," he says, his voice gravely and rough.

Lisa smiles. "Hey yourself."

"Guess our little…ah…exorcism worked, huh?"

"Yeah." She runs her hand through his hair. "You're going to be okay."

"I'm so sorry Lisa…I…"

She puts a finger up to his lips. "Don't. It's going to happen. It'll probably happen again. We're just lucky we have you around to protect us."

"Yeah…hell of a job I did of that." Dean winces, his free hand drifting to his belly.

"You know what I mean."

Dean flashes her a look of almost unbelieving appreciation. Like he really understands how messed up it is for her sometimes. "Thanks Lis."

"Don't mention it." She looks around the area for others. When she's satisfied that they're alone, she smiles giddily. "I've got a surprise for you."

Dean looks amused. "What's that?"

Lisa unbuttons the first few buttons of her shirt and dramatically pulls it down, exposing the top of a lacey corset bra. "It's part of what was in the bag you were so interested in at the house."

She expects his eyes to go lusty, but instead they flood with gratitude. He almost looks touched. Not for the lingerie but for the moment of easy silliness in a really crappy day. It makes her feel closer to him. Like she's managed to break down yet another wall.

"Only part of it, huh?" Dean says after a minute, his eyes finally turning liquid green and sweeping over her chest.

"Yeah…consider it a preview for when you get your stitches out."

"Tease." His face breaks out in an incredible smile that reaches all the way up to his eyes.

"Invalid."

Dean chuckles and then winces. "All my goodies for you are still on the floor in the house."

"Yeah, I know and you're totally gonna clean that all up."

"You're tough," Dean murmurs, his eyes drifting shut, the smile still on his face.

"Damn straight." Lisa leans forward and places a soft kiss on Dean's forehead.

A few days later, Dean crouches at the front door, repairing the broken devil's trap. He's used a few spells around the house to further protect the house and ward off any more demons that try to get in. He's also added more weapons, sigils and potions to help seal up the house. He does all of this knowing it's a moot point. If they want him, they're going to find a way. He just hopes he's ready for whatever's coming for him next.

**That's All Folks! **

**Author's Note: Took the Latin exorcism directly from John Winchester's Journal, written by Alex Irvine. An interesting read if you ever get the chance.**


End file.
